Constant Battle
by lessons learnt
Summary: Crixus and Spartacus take their fight to a new battle field.  Warning: Slash Crixus/Spartacus and some violence.


Their bodies move in perfect partnership; back and forth. Strong, well trained muscles move under shining sweat soaked skin, glinting in the heat of the sun and pushing each other to the extremes of patience and skill. The passionate white heat of their loathing is clear to the most unobservant eye.

A foot slips and razor sharp steel bites in to flesh; crimson blood flows across the burnished bronze skin and the crowd roars in frenzied glee at the violence arranged for their entertainment. The only disappointment: the fact that they will not see one of the men in the arena die today.

Spartacus gazes at Crixus through sweat clouded vision and enjoys the sight of blood dripping from his chest. In turn Crixus glares at Spartacus with a look of violent hatred; this pretender still holds his title and refuses to do the honourable thing and just die.

As they continue to move around each other, looking for weaknesses to exploit they are both forced to a grudging admiration of the skill in the man they face; this was a devious plan of Batiatus to ensure that the names of his gladiators remain on the lips of the crowd; there is no doubt that he has secured the position of his Ludus as the only possible choice for the celebration of the upcoming nuptials of Senator Galateus' only son.

The two men engage each other again; Spartacus' dual swords creating fireworks from the glints of the sun as Crixus uses his blade and shield in equal measure to try and break through the constant assault from the advancing blades.

"Don't you ever give up?" pants Crixus as he parries another blow from Spartacus

"Not whilst I can split that flesh of yours."

"Believe me, I shall split yours for each blow I take"

"Come closer and show me then" Spartacus taunts, as Crixus moves in for a vicious assault on his exposed upper arm. More blood is drawn and the crowd begins to chant Crixus' name as Spartacus is forced to drop the sword from his left hand and rely on his speed to stop any more hits.

Blows continue to rain down on Spartacus as his advantage leaves him and he finds himself at the mercy of the editor and the crowd; Crixus' blade biting at his throat. His breath returns as the signal is given for Crixus to release him and allow him to stand and take his place in line for Medicus to treat his wounds.

"Hold still," moans Medicus, as Spartacus turns to watch Crixus take up a place on the bench opposite him; "do you want this wound closed, or would you rather I leave it to fester like the previous one?"

"Apologies, Medicus" hisses Spartacus as the needle penetrates his skin again to close up the wound opened by Crixus' blade on his arm, "I do not mean to make your job more difficult."

"None of you ever do." Medicus huffs as he applies another stitch.

"You both fought well," said Doctore, as he undid the shackles the men had worn on their return from the coliseum; "you have honoured the Ludus, Dominus and your brothers. Now, clean yourselves up and rest; you have more training to do in the morning."

Crixus and Spartacus stared at each other across the baths; the tension mounted fast and all the other gladiators, guards and servants retreated from the room for fear of being caught in the heated anger that spread between the two men.

As the two men began smoothing oil over their bodies, Spartacus shot Crixus a look of distain and turned to retrieve a scraper to allow him to begin removing the crust of dirt that encased his body. Crixus blanched at the audacity of this Thracian pretender: turning his back on the man that had just bested him in the arena. Did this whelp really believe that he, Crixus, was so little a threat that he could turn his back?

It wasn't a conscious decision: he threw himself across the oil pool and in to the turned back of the pretender forcing Spartacus in to the wall and throwing their bodies together.

Oil slicked flesh slid against oil slicked flesh as the two warriors battled. Spartacus was unsure why this battle had begun, however, he was not going to be beaten by this man twice in one day.

The men fought for purchase against the skin of their opponent; naked flesh against naked flesh, hands and fingers trying to gain an advantage as their feet slid on the oil soaked floor.

The ground met Crixus' back with a thud that left him breathless and found Spartacus on top of him; pinning him to the ground. In that moment of breathlessness both men became aware of their naked groins and the press of their swollen, tumescent pricks against the hip of the other.

Spartacus darted his head forward and captured the mouth of his sworn enemy in a bruising kiss; forcing his way past the barrier of Crixus' lips and teeth to capture the mouth that, until this moment, he had never realised he even wanted.

Crixus pushed his hands against the unyielding weight of Spartacus' chest; not so much in an attempt to get the man off him, but more to assert his dominance in this unexpected embrace. He had admired the honed body of Spartacus as an opponent, but had never expected the feel of those muscles on his own to have such a profound effect on his libido. He managed to gain some leverage and push back in to the kiss, pushing Spartacus back and forcing his tongue in to the dominant position in this new battle between the two men.

Hands that had previously fought to push their opponent away suddenly became focused on pulling the other man closer and running calloused hands over skin and scars that only hours before they had tried to flay from their bodies.

As the heat and tension grew Spartacus fought Crixus on to his stomach and pinned the shorter man down with his chest across the other man's back and an arm across his neck. His free arm reached down and forced it's way between the glistening, muscular thighs of Crixus and stroke across his inner thighs and balls, causing Crixus to thrust back in to the oil slicked hands and groan around his growing need as his cock attempted to burrow in to the floor below him.

Spartacus picked up the scraper and thrust it in to the pool of oil and then began to drip the greasy substance down the golden sweat covered cleft of Crixus' clenching ass. He followed the oil with his index finger and pressed his finger hard against the puckered hole that he knew Crixus would fight to protect. He moved his hand from across the back of Crixus' neck and used it to swat the man's head before leaning down and growling in his ear: "you'd best loosen up, and let me in, or it's just going to hurt more."

"What makes you think I want your dirty Thracian cock in my ass?" Crixus growled back, spitting the dirt from his mouth.

"This." Spartacus grinned as his hand worked its way between the pinned man's body and the floor and took a firm grasp of the painfully hard cock pressed there.

Crixus let out a groan and Spartacus took the advantage of that moment to thrust his finger right in to the grasping heat of the man's hole.

He rolled them on to their side and began stroking the pulsing cock in rhythm with the penetration of his finger. It didn't take long for Crixus to get in to the rhythm and start thrusting back on to the finger impaling him; as soon as this happened Spartacus thrust another finger in to the man at the same time he flicked his nail across the slit of the man's cock.

The second finger brushed over Crixus' prostate and he let out a groan that had Spartacus twitching and ready to fuck the man there and then: he let go of Crixus' cock and lifted the man over a bench; pushing him down and forcing his way between his legs to leave his twitching hole open to his ministrations.

"Don't you ever give up?" panted Crixus as he tried to twist out from under Spartacus and regain control of the situation

"Not whilst I can split this flesh of yours." Spartacus smirked as the head of his oil coated cock thrust in to Crixus' stretched out hole.

Spartacus stilled as he grounded out in Crixus' ass and felt his balls slap against the other man's. Crixus yelled at the feeling of being stretched open so deep with something that felt like a cudgel but soon began to moan as Spartacus leant down over his back and reached around to begin pumping his still hard cock.

Crixus knew that he should be fighting against this; against being the receiving partner in this battle but there was something about being pinned by this man and not being able to fight that made him so hard. He wanted nothing more than to start thrusting back on this big, hard cock inside him and feel the heat of his enemy spurting cum in to him, but he had to be seen to fight, even if it was only to get the Thracian bastard to move; so he began pushing back and wriggling in a mockery of escape.

This seemed to be the signal Spartacus was waiting for and he began thrusting forward every time Crixus tried to thrust back and pinned him with down with his arm over his back as he snapped his hips forward over and over again pulling back and ramming forward with all the strength he could muster; hard enough to make sure that the other man would wince for days every time he sat down... maybe every time he moved. A grin flickered across Spartacus' face at the thought of being able to see his domination of this man in his every move during their training the next day.

He was brought out of his musings by the twitching of Crixus' cock in his hand and he gripped the base of the cock hard to stop the man from cumming:

"You won't find release until I say you can, Gaul." He hissed in Crixus' ear and moved his head back fast before the bucking man could throw his head back and break his nose.

He laughed, as Crixus let forth a string of expletives that would have made that sick bastard Batiatus blush, and then thrust forward hard enough to force all the air from Crixus' lungs and cut off any more threats.

Spartacus felt the heat begin to build in his balls as they tightened up and his forceful thrusts into Crixus lost their rhythm. He had the presence of mind to begin stroking Crixus' cock again as he continued to thrust in to the man and shout; "Cum for me Crixus, spill your seed all over this floor and show everyone that I am Primus and you are no more than my bitch!"

Crixus thrust back on the cock in his ass harder as he tried to restrain himself from following the orders of the Thracian cock that thrust in to him and his prostate with every stuttering move of their hips; but, he can't overcome the growing pressure in his balls and ass and he spurts hard every muscle in his body tensing and bucking as he clamps down on the invading cock still buried in him.

Spartacus hears the cries of Crixus and the vice like clamp of the muscles around his cock and arches back as he hits Crixus' prostate one last time and empties himself in to the man he has bent over under him.

Both men collapse and panting try to regain their breath as Spartacus pulls out of Crixus with a groan.

Crixus tenses slightly at the removal of the cock from his ass and then turns and splits the lip of the arrogant Thracian that has just brought him the strongest orgasm of his life.

"Remember, Thracian;" Crixus whispers as he licks at the blood beginning to drip from Spartacus' split lip; "I promised to split your flesh for every blow I took... and I won't be as kind as you were."

With that promise Crixus captured Spartacus' lips in a memory of the moment that started all this and then turned to begin cleaning his cum covered body.

The End.


End file.
